Three Words
by Fair-Ithil
Summary: Harry's never said 'I love you.'" Harry thinks about the three small words that seem to mean the world to people.


Disclaimer- I don't own it. A very rich woman by the name of Joanne Rowling does, perhaps you've heard of her.

A/N: This was totally inspired by chapter 42 of After The End by Arabella and Zsenya (it can be found both here and at the Sugar Quill, and can very well be the single best post Hogwarts tale out there and for anyone who is yet to read it, stop reading this story and go find AtE). Yet another OOC Harry fic but it was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone, it followed me constantly, begging to be written. And I caved. Besides after good many weeks of writer's block, I was willing to take any bunny that crossed my path... Read, review, no flames please.

Harry's never said 'I love you'.

He doesn't know what made him realize it to begin with and the only real reason he can come up with is the fact that the word is suddenly everywhere. He's not quite sure if it's a side effect of war, all he knows is that he hears the word seemingly everywhere now. He hears it in the morning when Mr. Weasley says good-bye to Mrs. Weasley after breakfast, and when Charlie hugs Ginny good night. Even Ron and Hermione, who are normally too shy about their romance to speak of it, let it slip ever now and again with the causal 'love' when talking to one another. Harry doesn't mind, he finds an odd interest in watching others say it. With Mr. and Mrs. Weasley there's a comfortable familiarity about the words. With Charlie and Ginny it's a sign of their family bond, and with Hermione and Ron it may very well be the most interesting because there's a peculiar glint in their eyes that's only ever around when they say the word. It's new and exciting for them, finding new meaning in words they've said and heard all their lives.

Harry's never said 'I love you' though he does in fact love. He loves Ron like a brother and Hermione like a sister and he loved Sirius, he still does. He loved his mum and his dad though sometimes does he wonder if he loves them for the people he's told they were or because they were his mother and father. He loves Remus and Hagrid and he feels as though the Weasleys were his own family even though he's never had one, but he sees them interact with one another and then with him and he thinks that's what a family's all about. He still isn't aware that the feeling is mutual but he can be quite clueless about some things. And then there's Ginny, and for her Harry feels a different sort of love, not like the love he feels for Hermione, but something that he's never known before. He doesn't want to say that he's _in _love with her because he isn't sure that he is. She's funny, and kind, and smart, and quite pretty and great at Quidditch. She's got a temper to match Ron's and she can lie without batting an eyelash and she's strong, not just physically, but in her own way that sets her apart from others. He enjoys spending time with her; he looks forward to their conversations about just about everything under the moon.

So in all truth there is a rather long list of people who Harry loves and who love him back.

He just hasn't told any of them.

He knows words aren't needed between the three of them, Ron and Hermione both know how he feels towards them. Remus and Hagrid have told him that his parents loved him more than anything, and his life is proof of that, his parents' ultimate sacrifice for their child. He's never whispers the words into the darkness thinking his parents or Sirius might hear, because he isn't sure whether he believes they're there or not. He hasn't told anyone he loves him or her and sometimes he wonders if he ever will. Mrs. Weasley told him once, on his birthday and Harry can still remember the way his mouth went dry and his throat constricted almost painfully when Mrs. Weasley said it. The sympathetic look in her eyes and she pulled him into a hug and said she understood, though what she understood Harry's not quite sure.

Bellatrix had asked him if he'd loved Sirius that terrible night she'd killed him, and he knows she found pleasure in the fact that he had, and that it had been she who had ended Sirius' life, stealing away the closest thing to father he'd ever known. Harry wonders if that's the reason he can't say the words. Maybe he feared that in saying the words he would seal the dooms of those already marked for being close to him.

He knows the words aren't important, but there is a part of him, the part Uncle Vernon had always pointed out as the 'nancy boy' side of him, that wishes he would say the words, if only to know how they feel on his tongue. He doesn't know when, or how, or to who he'll say the words to but a part looks forward to the day when he'll be able to say it.

Until then he'll show his love in different ways. He'll let Mrs. Weasley fuss over him, and let Hermione hug him. He'll look forward to chess games against Ron even though he loses spectacularly ever time. He'll give Ginny his jumper when she gets cold as they walk to Hagrid's, even though more often then not she doesn't return it, and smile when he's offered another rock cake. Harry will make his appreciation known whenever Remus tells him about his parents and he'll enjoy every minute of the snowball fight that breaks out behind the burrow.

Harry's never said ' I love you,' but for the time being, it doesn't really matter.


End file.
